#i’m hilarious to myself and that’s all that matters

[what-gs-watching]

"You can be beautiful or you can be ugly, but you can’t be plain."

Soooo I’m pretty sure I died over Christmas; my entire family got a stomach bug that was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced, and now I have a head cold and I’ve lost my voice and I’m convinced this is some weird limbo and I’ll never be healthy again.

BUT! Before all of that, my dad and I got to indulge in our favorite holiday tradition: going to the movies. He and I have been sneaking off in the afternoon once everyone falls into a Christmas coma to see something for like, fifteen years. That man hates holidays because my mom goes insane trying to make them perfect and he just wants to escape and I appreciate that he allows me to go with him. 

This year, I was especially excited - the first time I saw the trailer for A Complete Unknown in September, I called him immediately screaming about it. Bob Dylan’s music was a huge part of my childhood, another thing that my stoic father shared with me, and could not wait to see it with him. Honestly, I’d been vibrating out of my skin about it, shrieking at the tv every time the commercial would come on.

Gang. It was so worth it. What a beautiful fucking movie.

Wherein, 19 year old Bob Dylan (Timothee Chalamet) heads to New York City in 1961, befriends Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger (Ed Norton), breaks into the folk scene, falls in love, has insane on and off stage chemistry with Joan Baez, writes songs that define a generation, puts the Newport Folk Festival on the damn map, learns he doesn’t really love fame, and then eventually goes electric. 

I do realize this movie isn’t going to be for everyone - it’s specific. Like, were you alive then and you’re wanting to relive that time and the way Dylan’s music made you feel? Perfect, you’ll dig it. Or, are you a super weirdo like me that WISHES you were alive during that time and just deeply loves the 60’s aesthetic and longs for what you think was a simpler era but it really was not, and you just want to romanticize the whole thing and feel wistful about it? Amazing, get your ass to the theater. 

One thing I appreciated about this movie was that it wasn’t really shoving anything down your throat, what was happening wasn’t overly explained, there were no ridiculous voice-overs or forced understanding, and honestly, Dylan was fairly mysterious. It didn’t feel like it was from his point of view, you’re not going to come out of this feeling like you finally GET him. He’s still this weird mythical genius, just doing what he’s driven to do. He never explains himself and he never wants to. So is this really a biopic? Or are we just seeing a snapshot in time, take it or leave it? I don’t think it matters; it’s wonderful, either way.

Also, like, DAMN, Chalamet. He was fucking incredible. Dylan is a hard guy to portray, he’s always been kind of aloof, withdrawn, he’s never seemed like this larger than life personality and to pull off that demeanor in a way that’s still endearing to the audience is NOT easy. He really encapsulated Dylan’s confusing charm, it was pitch perfect. And I had to laugh to myself a bit - last year’s Christmas movie was Wonka, also starring Chalamet. What a hilarious dichotomy from one year to the next. 

I’m going to be watching all of the award shows just for this. Give this dude all the flowers. 

As much of a fan of his music as I am, I never did a deep google dive on him and so I really enjoyed seeing his relationship with Joan Baez unfold. The scenes of them performing together were honestly beautiful, their voices blending and complimenting each other. Her song “Diamonds and Rust” unsurprisingly was also a large part of my musical upbringing and to learn she’d written it about their relationship - fuck. I listened to it again after we left the theater and it was devastating in an entirely new way.

Here’s the thing. I absolutely cried big fat tears a few times sitting there. It’s not a sad movie in any way, shape or form. But when he performs “The Times They Are A-Changin’” at the festival, just him and his guitar and his harmonica, and the crowd starts singing along with him, having never heard it before, I sobbed, smiling. 

When I was a senior in high school, my dad - who notoriously never put effort into gifts for us kids, relying on my mom to know what to buy - sat down and  made me a bunch of mix CDs of the songs he’d always been sharing with me. One of them was his 12 essential Bob Dylan tracks. The rest of that year, I lived in those tracks. The agenda pad I used for that school year was littered with Dylan lyrics, it’s my basement even now, “don’t criticize what you can’t understand” scrawled all over it.

So I was 17 again, sitting there, or 8 or 21 or any of the ages I’ve been where Dylan has kept me company. “It Ain’t Me Babe” is deeply ingrained in my mind as part of the dumpster fire that was the relationship I had with the first boy I ever fell truly in love with, and watching his long-time girlfriend Sylvie (Elle Fanning) witness him singing that with Joan Baez was like a punch to the gut. 

I’m not 100% sure what I’m driving at with all of this, but what I can tell you is: A Complete Unknown is beautiful. If you have any connection to Dylan’s music, it’ll light your soul on fire. If you don’t, it’ll still immerse you in a time or place you really should visit. It’s fascinating and visceral and glimmering, and it just might change you, a little bit.

HOW does it FEEL?

[georgies-ftts]

fucking LOVE the nhs

just walk into the walk-in (as you’re meant to) tell them that i am incredibly diseased (which i am) and then i’ll have a wee sit for 20 minutes and then some lady will yell my name across a room take me into a wee back room (not in a noncey way im sure) and have a cheeky look at me, tell me that i am infact incredibly diseased (which i am) and then they’ll send me on my merry way with a prescription (cheeky antibiotics to cure the diseases that riddle me like a victorian infant that won’t survive the winter)

fucking brilliant

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

“You did not live in a house of horrors. I was raised to believe in hellfire; now that was bad!” Okay and impending global genocide of any culture that disagrees with your beliefs isn’t? Being raised mentally preparing to withstand torture at the hands of police in a “do it to Julia” situation isn’t? Being socially isolated from your peers on the grounds that they’re evil uneducated dumb worldly heathens controlled by Satan isn’t a bad thing? No. Those are all good things which every child should be taught in order to experience “the real life.”

The legitimate truth is that we are all in “the real life” right now and in “the real life,” the Governing Body is doing the very best they can to cover up the fact that they’re a cult by relaxing the cult’s rules in a futile attempt to prevent the prosecution in the numerous ONGOING child sexual abuse cases from handing their non-tight-pants-wearing asses to them. And the other legitimate truth is discovering this fact to be the legitimate truth while having to navigate a sea of lies and high school is extremely traumatizing, especially when you feel the need to take a hard stance against the cult to prevent others’ children — children like you — from befalling the same fate by dressing up as some miserable wretch who cooked and ate children, hoping the way you look and carry yourself and stare into the parents’ eyes will scare them away. And even more traumatizing is that your tactics worked; proving that you are just as bad and scary as your preexisting OCD made you out to be. Yes I did it to myself; but consider the reason why I felt so compelled to sacrifice the entirety of my mental health to sabotage you with what little tools I had. I wouldn’t have done it had I not had a very good reason, and my very good reason was that I was a child who loved children. You were trying to protect me and it was a sacrifice; but I was also trying to protect children. My endeavor is not — and was never — a selfish one. It is not that I don’t care about you; I only prioritize the class which is most oppressed, and you are not a part of it because you are adults. Your feelings, unfortunately, are expendable in my mission to end religious child labor. I will not support your corrupt religion to make you happy when I know what it’s done to others and to myself; it is wrong, and you are wrong for supporting it. I, as a paraprofessional, refuse to support a religion which hides the sexual abuse of children for its own gain. By law I am now a mandatory reporter; I must report child abuse when I see it under penalty of law. Therefore it stands to reason that I must report your cult from the top of every mountain for the entire inhabited earth to hear so they may not even take so much as one step in your direction. I am sorry if I seem like I hate you; if the fact that I reject your ideals of theological expectational fascism disturbs you so much, then maybe you need to re-evaluate your choices.

“Your actions affect others.” I know my actions affect others; I know how they affect others as well. You’re crushed and demoralized and suffering physically from all the emotional stress; I’ve likely dug you both early graves. I know what I’ve done and I can live with it — Not easily — but I am not defeated because I know I’m in the right, and have always been in the right. No. The real question is: Do you know how your actions are affecting others? In exquisite detail? Have you listened to the victims? Have you allowed yourself to hear both sides of the story with your human ears, not ones made of tin and thought-blocking strategies and “I had it worse than you” excuses? No? Then you’d better start because the key to healing yourself is to aid in the healing of others. We are all connected as one body; and I refuse to be a cancer cell. Sorry I’m aiding in your downfall but it’s got to happen at some point.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Sometime around eight or nine my best friend and I learned about hickies. I suspect he’s the one who learned it and shared it with me. We were both utterly fascinated and on a dare I sucked mightily on my own upper arm to give myself one.

This was great fun, self made bruise. Hilarious.

But looking at the mark later I thought that perhaps it might be best to bandage it lest any questions crop up. My parents were often suspicious of my friendship with the boy across the street anyway, and I had a vague inkling that perhaps hickies might fall under the vaguely looming topic of Sex.

So I put a bandaid on it.

I’m not sure if my mom was suspicious regardless but as I was getting out of the shower a day later she popped in and spotted my unbandaged mark. The handle was flown off. She was a creature made only of yelling. She demanded to know where it had come from.

I told her I’d done it myself. She scoffed and said I couldn’t even reach that place on my arm. I put my mouth over the mark. She escalated her volume to ask why I’d hidden it if it were nothing and I gestured vaguely to encompass her irate direction. She did not care for that or believe me, but the discussion was tabled.

Tension simmered in the house. A few days later it was a weekend and I asked if I could stay over at my friend’s house. To the bafflement of my friend and I our parents were increasingly hesitant to allow this childhood bonding. If he’d been a girl there would be no issue but he was a boy.

It didn’t seem to matter that we were both children and that my menstrual cycle would not arrive for several more years. Or that a boy was safer from me than many female friends would be on later sleepovers. The constant jokes we both loathed from both sets of parents that someday we’d get married now seemed ominous.

There were phone calls. The sleepover was reluctantly agreed to. I packed up my pillowcase with all the stuff I’d need for the night and headed toward the door. My father stopped me.

He insisted I sit down. I sat.

He stuttered, “Now. You’re like. Ah. A flower. And your friend is a- uh. A bee. And bees will sting you- uhm- if they can so you need to use- uh- protection- from stinging.”

I was nine. I had no fucking idea what was going on and my dad was not really helping. As he rambled I slowly started to intuit that this was about S-E-X and was very probably the result of my hickey but I had no idea how to make him stop talking.

I will never understand why it was my father giving this talk in the first place. My mother had previously worked in a sex shop and phrases like, “Make sure to use lube, you don’t wanna rub it raw down there,” were a common part of my youth. My father meanwhile turned red as a beet and stammered at any mention of Sex.

He finished his mortifying and confusing talk with, “Don’t tell your friend about this talk.”

The door closed to my friends room and I immediately told him about it.

We were both utterly horrified at the thought of each other as anything more than frenemies. We fought, we played games, we set off fireworks. Why did adults need to taint that?

But tainted it was.

Both sets of parents continued to radiate an unwholesome suspicion about our friendship now and we never brought up the topic of sleepovers ever again. It is a source of tremendous amusement that despite all their worry over our relationship my friend and I both turned out gay.

[syd-djarin]

nut vid with the sound on

frankie "catfish" morales x f!reader

You accidently send Frankie a text that he wasn't supposed to see.

~1.5k words

tags: EXPLICIT, accidently sending a screenshot meant for someone else, reader is feral (she just like me), sexting, mention of light choking, virtual mutual masturbation (m & f!), flirting, Frankie is a consent king!, dirtyyyy talk, voice notes, nudes, nut vid with the sound on, they're so horny for each other

this is my first Frankie fic and I've been thoroughly enjoying myself in the Catfish Pond ;) I hope y'all like the text format, I had fun writing it like this. special shoutout to my babe @almostempty !!! she matches my freak, feeds my delusions & sparks my horny thots. thank you for cheering me on and helping with the dialogue I love you LOTS <3333

consulted this page for spanish used :)

translations:

princesa - princess

tócame - touch me

que cosa/cosita mas linda - what a pretty/pretty little thing

mierda - shit

ay dios - oh god

hazme el amor - make love to me

banners by: @cafekitsune <3

smut below the cut, y'all know the drill!

Frankie: You coming tomorrow? 

You: Yes, of course :) 

Frankie: Good. 

Bestie: bitch if you don’t make a move on fish

Bestie: It’s been months!!! Find out why they call him Catfish ;) 

You: STOPPPP 

You: you’re right tho I am dying to know

You: Wanna suck his dick til the skin falls OFF 

You caption the screenshot of Frankie’s latest Instagram post and text it to your bestie who will appreciate your level of freakiness. 

You continue your scrolling. 

*ding* 

Frankie: I don't think this message was meant for me, princesa.  

Opening his text, you realize to your horror that you sent your thirsty thoughts TO Frankie. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuck!

You: shit, I’m SO so so incredibly sorry! Totally inappropriate and not cool. I definitely meant to send that to someone else. Totally exiling myself from the group. 

Frankie: You meant to tell someone else that you wanna suck my dick til the skin falls off? 

You: It wasn’t for you. Please forget you saw it. Please Frankie :( 

Frankie: hell of a thing to send to someone. how am I supposed to forget the idea now?

You: Pretend. It was a mistake. 

Frankie: a mistake? as in, you didn’t mean it? 

You: Can we drop it? 

Frankie: seemed pretty specific for a mistake. you got freaky with it

You: It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. Please let it go 

Frankie: I don’t think I can, princesa

Frankie: not after imagining it 

Frankie: You sent a whole screenshot, with a colorful caption attached. That's intentional.

If you weren’t so humiliated, you’d be giggling and kicking your feet in the air that he is calling you princess, but you can only assume he is being patronizing. 

You: This is so fucking embarrassing. 

Frankie: Not too embarrassed to keep texting though…

You: Frankie don’t 

Frankie: You really think about me like that? 

You: I think you already know the answer to that

Frankie: I do, but I wanted to hear it from you. This time directly to me

Frankie: I think about you 

Frankie: All the time

You: Frankie, please. 

You: I already feel terrible 

Frankie: Never thought you’d see me like that. Now you’re telling me you’ve been thinking about my cock? and you want me to drop it? 

You: Please don’t fuck with me. I’m already mortified beyond belief like I can’t show my face around here anymore!! I’m sorry I sent it okay? 

You: I’ll skip the kickback if it's going to be too weird now. 

Frankie: Wouldn’t be the same without you there. I’d never tell you not to come. 

Frankie: If you really want me to drop it, I will. just say the word 

Frankie: but you should know

Frankie: I think you’re gorgeous, hilarious, too fucking smart to be hanging out with us  

Frankie: I lose my mind goddamn mind when I’m near you 

Frankie: and knowing you’ve been thinking about me too has me hard as a fucking rock 

You: Do you really mean that? 

Frankie: Yes I do, baby. You have no idea what you do to me 

You: Yeah? I might need some enlightenment. 

There’s a pause. You brace for impact; that he is really pulling your leg and he and the guys are doubled over laughing at your expense. 

Frankie: Might be better if you hear it straight from the Fish’s mouth

Frankie: Get it? Like horse’s mouth but it’s a fish instead 

You: I hate to admit I did one of those huff exhales that you do when something is amusing but not quite funny enough to warrant a full laugh

Frankie: At least you smiled. That’s good enough for me

Frankie: Sending a voice note, is that okay? 

You: Of course

Then the notification for a voice memo appears. Your fingers hover over the screen before you press play and Frankie’s low, gravelly voice spills into your ears. 

“Bebita, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. I’ve been yours since I first laid eyes on you…You’ve got me sitting here in my truck, trying to keep my shit together, but all I can think about is you on your knees for me. Told the guys I had to take a call… they’d give me shit right now if they knew… they’ve been ribbing me for months to ask you out but I was too chicken shit… way too pretty for me… definitely funnier and smarter than me, but you should know I’m not intimidated by that it's fucking hot… Fuck you’d look so good for me. I’d slide my cock into your mouth so slow, watch your lips stretch around me. You have the prettiest eyes and lips, you’d be heaven down on your knees for me…Shit, I’d lose my mind watching you take it. You’d look so pretty with your mouth full of me, baby. So fucking pretty.” 

Frankie: Are you touching yourself? Tell me, pretty girl 

You: And if I was?

Frankie: Good girl 

Frankie: What are you thinking? How do you feel?

You: So so good, Frankie

You: Thinking about your big strong hands all over me has me drooling baby

Another voice memo appears. When you press play, there’s a groan—a low, throaty sound that makes your entire body shiver. 

“You been thinking about my hands, princesa? Want me to hold those pretty tits with my hands, hmmm? Play with your nipples, massage them…maybe you’d like one of my hands gently pressing into the sides of your throat… if you’re into it of course!” 

Frankie’s urgency to make sure you’re into that sort of thing makes you smile. The caring, thoughtful Frankie that you know. 

“I am so hard for you– ay dios!…Thinking about you sitting on my face, trapped underneath your gorgeous thighs��� make you come all over my face. Need you to make a mess on me… rub your pretty little clit on my nose, that’s why I have this big nose… so you can use it fuuuuuuuck…”

His voice grows rougher, more ragged. You can hear the slick, clapping sounds and his breathing. Heavy and uneven. 

“Mierda, I’m so fucking close, wish you were here baby–unghhhhh… wanna feel you around me, your pussy squeezin’ my cock… make you come ‘til you’re begging me to stop… do whatever you ask me to…”

You: Show me. I want to see Frankie, please 

Frankie: Wanna hear you say it in your pretty voice 

Frankie: Let me hear you beg all sweet like for me and I’ll show you what you do to me 

You: “Frankie ohhhhh baby I need you so bad… tócame, Frankie, por favor…Always think about climbing in your lap, running my hands through those— ahhhhhh!— curls, wanna feel how deep you get when I ride you… wanna feel you in my goddamn throat — fuck, can you hear how wet I am? I’m making such a mess oh my godddddd… never been this fucking wet baby…”

Frankie: babygirl you’re gonna be the death of me

Frankie: love your voice and the pretty sounds your pussy is making for me 

You: can I send a video? 

Frankie: no pressure. only if you’re comfortable with it 😘

You: that’s not what I asked, Francisco

Frankie: I know you mean business when you use my government name 

Frankie: yeah baby i wanna see whatever you wanna show me 

You: Attachment: 1 Video 

“Hazme el amor, Frankie…” 

Your legs are spread open, your core on display for the camera. He smiles thinking you probably had to find something to prop your phone on. You’ve got two fingers teasing in and out of your glistening pussy.

Frankie: que cosa cosita más linda 

Frankie: You have the prettiest, messiest little pussy baby. Thank you for showing me. I can’t wait to taste her

Frankie: As promised, you want something in return for being such a good girl for me? 

You: yes please 😇

Frankie: sound up 😘

Attachment: 1 Video 

“Fuuuuuuck babygirl… see what you do to me… need to be close to you, need to feel you… make you feel good like you deserve… this is all for you, I am all for you baby…”

Frankie has his cock pulled out of his unzipped jeans, still in his truck, pumping himself. You admire the size and girth of him, so thick and gorgeous. You know the sting and stretch of him entering you for the first time will be delicious. It’s so hot knowing he had to slip away from the guy's night to relieve himself—couldn’t even wait til he got home. 

“Been dreaming of you for months, always imagine you when I’m touching myself, you’re in all my thoughts baby… mierda I’m gonna come, fuck baby—unghhhhhh— gonna come so hard for you — ohhhhhhhh fuck…” 

Thick ropes of cum drip down his hand, where he’s slowly riding out his high, breath heaving in exhaustion. 

You: I think I just blacked out 

You: I came so hard watching you fuck

Frankie: Such a good girl, baby. You did so good making yourself come 

Frankie: Drink some water 😘

You: Thank you Frankie :) 🩷

You: chugging some water as we speak🫡 

Frankie: that’s my girl 

Frankie: get some sleep, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow 😘😘

BONUS: frankie's insta

tagging babes who might enjoy: @katiexpunk @evolnoomym @studioghibelli @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @sanarsi @tightjeansjavi @milly-louise <3333

@pedrostories

[yumeboshi]

Mmmm, may I order myself a bloody pomegranate sundae? Looks quite delectable! ♥️

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @yandere-romanticaa .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡

𐙚BLOODY POMEGRANATE SUNDAE：disturbingly red but it smells good at least．．

𐙚 dish desc。．yandere hsr men’s reactions to getting caught in the middle of one of their messy crimes.

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。general yandere themes, mentions of gore and violence, manipulation, filthy, light minors dni warning

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。aven, sunday

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ “so what if i’m crazy? the best people are”

。no literally 。this man has no shame at all. he’d give you the widest smirk in the world, staring at you straight in the eyes with those intimidating eyes of his while carelessly wiping off some blood from his expensive attire. 。“oops, you caught me.” 。it would be rather unsettling about how unfazed he is. when you call him a murderer and all sort of insults you can think of, he’d just laugh and tell you it’s all part of the ‘game’ you two were in. 。he’d love the horrified look on your face, though, so do be prepared for now intentional bloody corpses anywhere you go. 。aventurine himself knows what he’s doing is wrong. unlike a certain someone but he will submerge the voice of reason inside him if it means that it’s needed for his ‘end goal’ — which is securing you all to himself. he knows you’re breaking him apart, ruining his mind with your thoughts that gnaw on his morals like parasites, but at some point he had just decided to succumb to it. after all, he does not have anything left to yearn for if you’re gone. 。it is almost like he clings to you for his own sanity, ironically enough. you are the cause of him breaking down and yet you are also the one who lets him know why he’s still alive, so for him, killing someone is equal to reminding himself about what he’s living for. 。this gambler won’t know when to stop— he relishes in the thrill of it, he even likes getting caught by you. his sick mind thinks it’s hilarious.

“YOU DON’T have to stare at me that much,” aventurine chuckles.

how could you not, with the obvious residue of blood splattered all over him, he doesn’t even bother wiping it off. the dim candlelights flicker to illuminate your mortified face, because the seat that was occupied moments ago before you excused yourself to get something, was now empty. your dinner date with your friend was cancelled by force.

the man in front of you carelessly slides the scarlet chair out to sit in the formerly occupied place, the chair making an ugly creak as he does, crossing his legs- leaning back leisurely as he smiles at you through despicable eyes.

“i know my attire is ravishing tonight, but please, feel free to order anything else.” he gestures to the spread menu. you can’t even touch it with the substance that contaminated it, no, contaminated the whole table you were sitting in— the angelic white rose jar decoration is broken and red is bleeding into their fragile petals, the ravishing steak is inedible, broken utensils are scattered everywhere on the luxurious tiles of the restaurant, and it’s eerily quiet except for the soft romantic jazz that echoes creepily across the silence.

when you try to leave- to get away from this insane monster that is him, he stops you and pouts, telling you he’s waited for so long, surely they could have an impromptu date. you were his fiancé, it was natural for him to want to treat you to dinners alone- he’d say with a chuckle.

“dates out of the blue are always fun, don’t you think?” he would say with a smile as he eats the steak without caring much about the taste- he has his pretty princess all to him, that’s what matters more. that should be the only thing that matters.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ justifies himself

。this paranoid and obsessive man will have the most difficulty suppressing his desire to make a complete massacre 。he just can’t stand seeing someone even close to you. but as the head of the oak family, he’s also the most reputable person so he cannot risk that to succumb to his needs. 。he still will though, just not obviously. his murders are calculated and too well-woven to be suspicious of from the public eye, he knows how to pin crimes on someone else and it’s certainly not his first time doing this. 。when you raise eyebrows- he’d smile and laugh about how you’d think such lowly of him. he was your sweetheart, so you didn’t think much of it either. 。“please, love. now im quite offended.” 。he was definitely pondering over how you caught up though, so he’s going to put in extra effort to cover his tracks. 。but there’s times he loses his composure and doesn’t bother to cover up his crimes. he snaps, letting go of the thin string of sanity that held him together- and when you see that, he’d suddenly go all sweet, cooing to you that this was all for your own good. 。“they were hurting you, angel. hurting you. you’ll never be heartbroken again, not in my arms.” 。sunday is a master manipulator. human emotions are something he has dealt with tons of times. he will know what to say and what to do to pull on your cogs as if he’s performing clockwork. 。when even his reasoning and silver tongue doesn’t work on you- he would hate to do it, he doesn’t want to artificially make his darling, but for the greater good, he would, brainwash you. like mentioned, he’s a firm believer of the end justifies the means.

STANDING upon you is a fallen angel with his attire drenched with blood that isn’t his. you can tell with the way his pristine gloves are stained to oblivion.

you see his business smile crack slightly when he sees you standing in the doorway, horrified. “apologies,” sunday says with a smooth voice, but his eyes waver a little, but soon harden- as if there’s a completely rational reason why he has done whatever he did to your poor friend that was waiting for you in your room.

“what…?”

his cold eyes suddenly melt at your mortified look- he sighs with condescension, as if somehow you’re the one in the wrong. “it’s my sincere apologies i intruded your room without warning, but I must say, the situation was rather… suspicious, hm?” he slowly walks towards you- every step pronounced and clicking against the tiles as if death is knocking on your door.

“another man sitting in the bed we share? I don’t think that’s appropriate, don’t you think?” he’s close enough to push you onto the wall- blocking your escape route. “isn’t he the same person who forgot to send you presents on your birthday?”

sunday doesn’t actually care about the presents part- he was the one who discarded his gift before you could get it, anyway. he’s using it as an excuse to reprimand you.

“y-yes, but that’s not an excuse to—“

“ah ah, I don’t think there’s much of an excuse to make here. you’re dodging the point. tell me, am i not enough for you?” his sickly sweet voice isn’t paired with the sweetest gesture- in fact, you can feel his stained hands press your neck ever so slightly.

you have no other choice but to say you’re sorry- begging him that you really weren’t cheating on him; and it was just an unfortunate coincidence your friend was on the bed. every time you pleaded, he’d sigh and shake his head as if he’s giving in to your desperate begging to not leave you here alone, but inside, his heart pounds with delight seeing you break down and lose your reason.

“oh, you pathetic little dove. always needing someone to protect her from evil.” his hands caress your head, leaning into you to envelop you in a tight embrace he doesn’t plan to let go of. “you keep trying to fly away, yet you know nothing about the world around you.”

your pleas echo louder as his fingers touch your lips, stinging your nose with the metallic smell on them, and he pulls you in for a kiss that makes you choke, his tongue intruding your mouth that spills out drops of saliva from the lack of breath.

“—so I’ll make you a lovely cage, sweetheart.” he whispers against your lips, smiling through his devilishly handsome gaze before devouring them once more.

[rileyglas]

Hello! Can I request Alastor x Fem!Trust Issues!Reader? I've seen quite a few fanfictions and requests where Readers were wary of Alastor, but strangely quickly began to trust him. Therefore, it seemed to me that it would be funny to see a Reader who is so distrustful of people in principle that with Alastor’s reputation this distrust reaches the point of absurdity. And when Alastor really sincerely wants to gain the Reader's trust (romantically or platonically, it doesn't matter), then it becomes a really difficult task. For example, he offers help with some little thing and the Reader immediately “what do you want from me.” Or when Alastor brings the Reader tea/coffee, she waits for him to drink first (she would probably insist that he pour it from the same ?teapot?). The other residents of the Hotel find this hilarious.

This is such a fun prompt, especially under the assumption Alastor loves nothing more than a good chase during a hunt. 😉

Like Glass (Alastor x Fem!TrustIssues!Reader)

Four months. That’s how long it took for you to finally take Charlie up on her offer of the possibility of redemption. The chance to get to Heaven seemed like a pipe dream but after a few very long talks and persuasions, you now held a key to your own room in the hotel. 

You try to keep to yourself and most seem to respect that. You’re left alone unless something is needed for one of Charlie’s exercises. You even specifically requested that Nifty didn’t bother coming to your room to clean. The less people in your space the better. 

Charlie has such a big heart but that leads to her choosing to trust even the most despicable characters. She has even trusted and allowed the Radio Demon to live under the same roof. You’ve heard all the stories, all the theories of why he was really there under the ruse of “helping” her. You didn’t buy it one bit. 

Just the other day you were trying to hang some banners the crew had made during an activity. Your ladder was rickety but unfortunately it was the only way to reach the beams. Pained grunts filled the room from you trying to stand on your tiptoes while maintaining some sense of balance. “Allow me to help, dear. Would hate to see you fall.” A staticky voice called from below you. “No thank you - I….am almost…done - shit!” the ladder shifted and almost threw you off. Alastor stabilized it with ease. “See, it is a good thing I’m here!” he yelled smugly. At this point you would rather fall than allow him to hold your life in his hands. “You’re a busy man Alastor. Hey Husk? Mind helping -”

“Nope, looks like Al has it covered.” he teased from behind the bar, relishing in your uneasy tone. You shot daggers, both angry and begging for the cat to just help you instead of Alastor. You made the last tie in the banner and swiftly came down to more solid ground. “Thanks I guess. I had it though.” you said through gritted teeth, avoiding making eye contact and rushing out of the room. Had you looked back you would have seen Husk laughing at how irate Alastor suddenly became.

Now tonight, Nifty was kind enough to serve everyone one of her more popular dinners. It was a simple dish yet as usual, you waited for everyone to nearly clear their plates before digging into it yourself. You might have been starving but you could never be too careful. We are all in Hell for a reason. Could anyone be truly trusted?

“My dear, dig in! Before it gets cold!” Alastor’s voice chirped from across the table. You glare at the toothy grinned demon, “I just like to ensure everyone is enjoying before digging in myself. Appreciate the concern though.” You try to seem pleasant but your voice always seems to drip with disdain when speaking to him, “Why are you so worried? Did you help in preparing the meal?” 

He chuckles, “I try to keep out of the kitchen when Nifty cooks but she did require a few extra hands -” You involuntarily choke and spit out the bite you had just taken. Angel and Husk also choke though it’s to hold back laughter. You sneer at their amusement. Alastor’s face twists with confusion, “Is everything alright?” “Oh uhm I’m suddenly not that hungry. Must be coming down with something. Excuse me.” You excuse yourself from the table and make your way to the library. Reading was always something that could busy your mind and right now you needed a distraction from both your growling stomach and Alastor’s attempt to help once again. He’d been making an uncomfortable effort to help you in any way he could and in your mind, that could only mean he wanted something from you.

Not many residents used the hotel library which was great for you. But of course, there was always someone who enjoyed breaking your solitude. The sound of footsteps pulls your eyes off your current page, “What do I owe the visit?” you snap over your book. 

Alastor strides over with a serving tray carrying a tea set. “Well I saw just how horrible you looked at dinner and figured some peppermint tea might help whatever ailment you’re suffering from.” He sets the tray on the table in front of you but you don’t move a muscle. “Since when do you care if someone isn’t feeling well?” you cock an eyebrow at him. 

He hums as he pours two cups of tea, taking one for himself and offering you the other, “What? Can I not offer a fellow resident a nice cup of tea?” “Nope. What do you want?” you continue to stare at the cup in his hand. His eye twitches, trying to hold back his annoyance, “Why do you insist on rejecting any of my pleasantries?”

You slam your book closed, “You’re wondering why I do not want help of any sort from one of Hell’s most vile Overlords?” He sets down your cup and sits across from you. You didn’t want company but it's too late now. “Ms. Morningstar trusts me with ensuring the safety of this hotel yet you cannot even take a cup of tea you’ve watched me both pour and drink myself. Other than what stories you’ve heard, what have I done to you to make you so cold towards me?” His eyes burn into you, eager for an answer. Although with his tone, you could only assume he knew exactly why you didn’t trust him. 

You sigh as you pick up the cup he offered. You swirl it in an attempt to examine if it looks or smells odd before hesitantly taking a small sip for yourself. “Have you ever been betrayed Alastor? By a friend? By someone you loved? Because I have. It’s how I died and how I ended up here.” 

His smile falters slightly, corners curving down before returning to their usual wide grin, “Trust is like glass, once broken it isn’t easy to fix nor will ever be the same. I admire how guarded you try to be.”

You scoff, “If it is so admirable then why bother trying so hard to earn my trust? Unless it just kills your ego that someone can see you for who you truly are -” The cup he holds suddenly shatters under his tightening grip, “Watch your tone, dear. I’ve been nothing but amicable with you. I expect the same in return.” his voice drops with static filling the air. You can’t help but smirk at how quickly you’ve managed to get under his skin. “Ooooh so it is an ego thing? Duly noted.” you bite and finish off your cup. As you stand you see Alastor’s eyes shift to black dials, his mind clearly spiraling. On your way to the door you brush a teasing hand across his shoulder, “Tea was wonderful by the way. I’m feeling better already!” Your coy laughter echoes through the library as you leave but the sounds of Alastor’s demon form drown it out. He snarls over his shoulder to you, “Don’t act so smug darling. I’ll get you to trust me one day.”

“Good luck!” You chirp walking out the door, unaware of the challenge you just put into place for the Radio Demon.  He was going to have you one way or another. It was only a matter of time and patience, two things he had plenty of when it came to getting what he wanted. You.

[monstersflashlight]

Day 13. Monster-kinktober: Wings + Pegging/Edgeplay

A/N: This is for @dragonsholygrail and everyone who wanted a part 2 of this and didn’t get it (so basically for myself), enjoy!

Griffin x fem!reader || pegging, edgeplay, orgasm denial, light dirty talk, dom/sub dynamic (femdom), marking (lowkey) || tw: mentions of blood

When you asked what he wanted to do for his birthday, you were more than surprised by his answer.

He didn’t really have a birthday, you decided to give him one when he said he didn’t know when he was born, and it made you so sad that you cried and he panicked. It was a very comical situation and now he had a birthday and you celebrated with all the necessities, aka: cake, presents and a birthday wish. Well, maybe in that last one you cheated a bit, because you made it sexual and decided to recreate a fantasy of each one of you each year. In your last birthday, he dressed as a pirate and you two fucked on a beach. It was great. And now you expected something similar, maybe another role-play. And well, role-play it was.

He wanted you to be a bounty-hunter again, but this time you will chase him and catch him… Just to fuck his ass and make him submit to you completely. You stared at him for a long while after he said it, until he was blushing hard and your pulse was racing so fast you could hear it in your ears. But when he was already opening his mouth to say it didn’t matter, you cut him and agreed immediately, the sole idea of having him under you as you drove him crazy was making you all wet and needy.

That’s how you found yourself running after him, both on foot to make it fair, through the forest. You were already wearing the harness with the dildo, and he wasn’t even trying to run that fast, knowing fully well your movements were restricted by your human body. He was a few meters ahead of you, completely naked and looking good enough to eat. You had a knife in your hand an a smirk on your lips, ready to play your part.

Not too much later, he slowed his running, acting like he tripped and looking behind himself with a hidden smile. You took advantage of the situation and jumped on his back, careful not to hurt his wings, and pressed a knife to his throat. “I got you, I’m going to sell you to the highest bidder,” you tried to act as harsh as possible when you pushed him forward and he fell to his knees (in a very fake movement that made you want to giggle).

He looked up at you as you threw your knife away and pleaded: “No please, please. I’d do whatever you want.” He sounded pathetic in the most hilarious way possible and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning.

“Whatever?” You asked teasingly. He was clearly trying to contain his laughter when he turned around and lowered his body to the ground in a submissive pose. You felt the heat under your flimsy dress as he moved his tail from one side to the other.

“Whatever,” he confirmed, raising his hips in the most obscene movement ever. You looked at him with your mouth open, you were expecting a lot of things, but not him acting so playful when you were about to fuck him.

You tried to regain your composure and let out a choked breath before telling him: “I think we are going to have fun us two.” You sounded ridiculous but he wasn’t laughing anymore.

He was looking at you with hunger in his eyes and a glint of danger behind his pupils. You were so horny you could roll under him and plead to be fucked. But no. It wasn’t about you today, it was all about him and his filthy fantasy (a filthy fantasy you were more than glad to be included in).

“Is that so… hunter?” You shivered, not knowing how he could sound so filthy with such a normal word, but you squared your shoulders and walked to him.

The harness you were wearing moving uncomfortably as you positioned yourself behind him. You were more than glad that he prepped before starting the game because your hands were shaking furiously as you took your position behind him and touched lightly his gaping hole. He cursed and pushed back, a needy whimper escaping his eyes.

“So desperate already… Who would have thought the scary griffin would be just a submissive monster under me,” you continued with your role, making him cover his mouth to muffle the giggle that escaped. “Come on dude, don’t break role now,” you told him as you pushed two fingers inside his hole.

He took in a deep breath, gasping at the contact. “Fuck me already, hunter.”

“Okay, okay…” You told him, as impatient as him.

You positioned yourself right over his hole, the dildo looking shiny with the lube you applied back in the cave, and pressed slowly inside of him. By the time you were bottoming out, he was panting and trying to push back, his wings flapping uncontrollably as you watched, mesmerized. You pulled back and back inside, making him cry out. The surge of power within you was unexpected, making your body heat and your brain get fuzzy. Having such a scary creature under you, submitting to you… it was more erotic than you expected. It was almost obscene, and you fucking love it.

You leaned over him, your hand pulling lightly at his hair. “You don’t come unless I tell you to,” you grunted against his back as you moved your hips harder, hitting that spot that made him whimper over and over. “Understood?��� You pressed, grabbing his hair and pushing his head up until his back was arching and his wings were twitching under your chest.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” he chanted with an open mouth, eyes closed as he pushed back against you.

“Good boy,” you praised him, rewarding him with a hard bite against his jugular, making him scream your name as you kept fucking him.

You dragged it out as much as possible, changing speeds and angles until you got him to make those beautiful throaty whimpers that made your pussy so wet you were dripping. You knew he was getting desperate, his hands twitching on the ground as you edged him with the dildo. He looked so good under you, his wings moving every time you hit the sweet spot that made him see stars.

He interrupted your inner monologue to ask breathlessly: “Can I- Can I come?” His voice was needy and desperate, like he was on the edge of coming.

“No,” you answered curtly.

He looked at you over his shoulder with the most betrayed face ever. “What?”

“Not. Yet.” You punctuated with hard, long thrusts. You were in control and you wanted to have that power high for a bit more. You wanted him to be as desperate as you were every time he decided to play with you. You wanted retribution.

“But… But…” He broke in a huge groan when you pulled his hair again, your teeth pressing harder until you tasted blood on your lips.

He roared and you smiled against his skin. He looked like he was about to say something, but he didn’t finish that thought before you were speeding up your thrust, the edge of the harness caught in your inner thigh sending sparks of pleasure at every thrust. You were so close, too, the pent up tension and the sexual energy in the air, mixed with the filthy sounds he was emitting… you were almost there.

Sparks shone against your closed eyes as you chased your own orgasm and he panted under you, broken moans and groans as he tried not to come, but when you screamed your release he screamed so loud all the birds in the trees took flight at the same time, a cacophony of sounds as you exploded. You didn’t stop the movements against him, inside him, as he kept screaming.

Just then you realized he didn’t wait for your order. “I told you not to come without permission, didn’t I?” You asked him as you reached around his body to tug at his oversensitive spent cock. He whimpered and you smiled, your hips moving slowly against his sweet spot still.

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t hold it in when I smelled your orgasm,” he confessed, his head falling forward to the soft grass under his body as you giggled, content and sated.

“You deserve a punishment for being such a bad boy,” you teased and he whimpered, his dick twitching in your hand. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He nodded, his head turned to the side and mouth open, drooling over the grass and looking completely fucked out. You loved that look. “Maybe I need to fuck you some more until you are so tired you can’t even walk, maybe I need to bite you so hard you aren’t nothing but my chew-toy for a while…”

You continued the slow thrust accompanied with filthy promises and the constant movement of your hand, the combination of stimuli must have been too much for him because he screamed once again and you felt his dick twitch uncontrollably against your hand, but no come came out.

“Did you just have a dry orgasm?” You asked, mesmerized by the new knowledge. He nodded and you stopped your movements, making him whimper and fall to the ground completely, laying flat. “We will explore that later,” you sentenced as you laid next to him on the grass, his big body coming around you instantly, cradling you against his warm chest.

“Later,” he mumbled against your neck as he fell asleep.

Guess your birthday present was better than he expected… for both of you.

[14thgalerie]

the one

• pairing: theodore nott x riddle!reader

• now playing: hayloft by mother mother / you that i want by divine

• word count: 1.7k

• genre: angst, fluff, hint of smut

— short one that i kept thinking of.

Theo slumped in his chair, fatigue weighing heavily on him. The clock on the wall opposite him ticked relentlessly, unforgiving of his sleepless state. He had long abandoned any hope of finding any rest. He hadn’t been able to since that fateful night when everything felt right in his life.

His mind wouldn’t grant him solace. Each time his weary eyelids dared to meet from the pure exhaustion of the stress of OWLS, the ongoing war, his brain kept feeding him images of you. You, who kept haunting him from the very forefront of his mind. 

The natural curve of your eyelashes. The way it fluttered against his cheeks as your lips made a blazing trail across his cheeks. Gentle whispers that drown him in sheer bliss still send shivers down his spine. 

His tie lay abandoned, discarded beside him, next to the pile of papers swept aside in his frustration earlier. The long, emerald fabric had felt too suffocating amidst the overwhelming thoughts of you.

He couldn’t help but wonder if you would also be writhing in bed, unable to fall asleep as he does. Would your dreams torment you with the brief time his hands tangled onto your hair, wayward? Does your dormant body spin cruel variations of that time, telling him tantalising tales of what could’ve occurred if only your insufferable blonde companion hadn’t so abruptly interrupted?

He had never loved you.

Not in the way you wanted.

This desire to fill the emptiness in your heart, to have somebody give you the time and day has obscured that truth. A part of you knew, from the very beginning, but this desperation forced you to turn yourself blind.

Draco was there, a constant presence in your life, a perfect match to have by your side. Born only 24 hours apart, and 10 years of your childhood spent solely with him.

In truth, you both used the other, a fact that you ignored. He relied on you for protection and status as your partner, while you clung to him to feel the fleeting sense of warmth. But the perpetual storm of reality always wearing you both down and, you were rapidly losing the strength to keep yourself afloat.

Unspoken words hung heavy in the air between the both of you as the year progressed and the inevitable return of your father neared. At first, you had both kept your feelings at bay, not wanting this to jeopardise your friendship altogether. But as time went on, it became a routine. Venom spit from raised voices, threats of abandonment and indifference to each other, reconciliation accompanied by hollow promises and sex.

“Are you a bloody fool? She is my best friend and yet again, Draco ‘can’t-keep-his-boxers-on’ Malfoy decided that didn’t matter!” You screamed in frustration, but it didn’t seem to matter when he didn’t even so much as falter at the volume. 

“We aren’t even together, so why should it?” He carelessly replies, an air of indifference surrounding him.

“We aren’t? You truly are an insufferable git, I spent two years committing myself to you, and you never thought to mention that little detail before?” You scoffed, incredulous at the idea. It was foolish and outrageous, and not at all like how the man you know would think. Despite your differences with one another, he would still treat you with at least the respect you give to a friend, but now…

“Oh please! Don’t act as if your mind has not been completely filled with that mindless buffoon.” 

“For Merlin’s sake, do not dare turn this on me…” You challenged him. 

“Or what? Threaten to have your father kill me? Well, surprise, darling, I’m no stranger to that already.” He humorlessly chuckles. “I’ve seen you. I’ve seen that god-awful lovesick look on your face at the mere sight of his back. I am not the complete bloody fool you think I am.”

It hurt, truly, despite the fact that this started as a hilarious excuse of a relationship. You cared for Draco and to see him constantly destroy everything and everyone in his path of destruction left you unable to conjure up any more excuses for him.

“I am done, Draco. We can stop whatever awful pretentious act we put ourselves to and live on our own as you seem to hardly care for even yourself anymore these days.” You laugh, defeat etched on your face.

He never gave you the love that you sought, the kind that Theo had laid bare in complete display for you in just under seven minutes in that tiny closet. 

“You came back to me.” He whispers, close enough for his lips to touch the corner of your lips but there’s just a stutter of breath. It makes you want to instinctively kneel and look up to him and beg religiously for mercy, the way he speaks.

“I did.” You reply. Unmoving, but your patience wears thin.

“Look at you,” He mutters, his hand tugging at your head by your hair, exposing your neck to him, and your knees nearly buckle at his breath that burns against your jaw. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet and you’re almost like putty in my hands already.”

“Shut it, Nott.” You quickly remark a decision you notably regret when you are left standing in the middle of the room all by yourself. The cold air from the ajar window left your skin tingling with an uncomfortable feeling akin to when Draco touched you in the past weeks.

You scoff, the sound more as if you were nearly pleading. “What are you doing?”

“You know I hate it when you act like a brat.” He inclined his head, and the movement leaves chills running through your spine for the action is almost similar to someone sinister. But weirdly, it makes you want to tease him even more.

“Oh please, Theo. I’m not blind, as if you don’t dream of it.” You slowly approach him, your fingers make a motion of dragging along the ends of the poster beds. “The way I see your eyes tremble when I contradict every single thing you say. I know you are depraved when your thoughts are only of my mouth…”

You hear a sharp intake of breath when you come near. “The way you would just love it if you could shut me up by having my lips wrapped around you. I know you, Theo.”

His lips twitch into a mirthless smile, he reaches almost mindlessly for your collar. His thumb barely touches the skin of your neck. “Yes, you do.”

His eyes are intense as they dart to your mouth. Your tongue unconsciously makes a sweep against your dry lips.

“I suppose Draco will show me exactly how.”

Taking a page of this man’s book is terrifying but you are tired of this game of tug that you keep playing.

“That would be wise. ”

He’s still looking at your lips.

“I’ll go then.” You try again, unwilling to make the move.

“Go on, you won’t hear a sound of protest from me.” But you remain standing in front of him, the will to move weak against the desire to have him.

“Really?”

“No.”

Theo grabs the back of your head, tangled his fingers in your hair, and made a mess of your mouth. With his lips attached to yours, you grab him by his shirt and the both of you kiss as if you were third years again. Your teeth clashed into each other time and time again and you couldn’t find it in you to slow down. 

The need to kiss him, to feel what you’ve been thinking of for several nights on end.  You push back at him, desperate to feel the same hunger and need in him, as he kisses you deeper and more profound than you ever thought possible.

The soft, selfish hands that you wished so badly to wipe clean off the bodies of other women move up from the bottom of your back to move you impossibly closer until you are almost one. His voice is ragged when he pulls away, a thin thread of saliva still connecting you.

He says against your cheek, “I love you. I’d die for you. Nobody can ever give you what I could make the pain go away like I could, not even that dense fuck who has a deeper sense of self-preservation than his parents.”

You swallow, agonised by the sudden slow pace that he moves. Not an ounce of energy dared to waste to defend your ex. “I will love you anywhere.”

You shiver at the raw and pure intensity that laced the declaration. You almost want to ask, to hear how. But you don’t think your mind could properly comprehend the ability to piece together the right words to ask.

His heart is pounding from beneath your fingers as you feel the pulse on his neck, almost leaping it out as if all it wants is for you to finally claim it as yours. Encase it in a glass case and put it on display for all else to see.

“In a bookstore, by the water fountain, the sidewalk, in the flames of your home.” His hands come down to your hips, his fingers digging in so harshly that by morning sunlight, purple will be painted on your skin but it feels so heavenly that you don’t push them away.

“I love you, not for the protection you provide and for your substantial looks, but for all the small things you do that bear your soul to me.” 

Your hands meet around the back of his neck as he carries you by your thighs towards his bed. Pulling at the fabric that keeps him away from you.

“I’ll love you even as you tell me you hate me. I love you enough that I will scour the face of this earth for a place where I can take you away from your nightmares.” 

“I-“ He sighs into your lips, completely delighted by the intimacy that only his mind could conjure up in the lone nights. “I love you.”

You move for the buttons of his polo, while he moves to pull your shirt from you. A race that leaves you both fumbling when you feel his hand carving a path against your waist and up to your chest. You are left scalding, tiny bounces of light flickering in your eyes.

“I will be at your string’s end.”

masterlist

[triangle-tumor-manifesto]

My nickname is Silver Cipher.

I am 19 years old, and I’ve been diagnosed with Stage 4 Signet Ring Cell Adenocarcinoma of the Appendix. My dream is to have Alex Hirsch sign my cancer journal.

Gravity Falls has been a huge help since the release of The Book of Bill, and has been a huge comfort to me during my cancer fight. It has helped me emotionally more than I can express. The idea came from one of my friends, who drove to meet me before even knowing my name. They suggested I try to get a signature from Alex Hirsch. This is just a brief summary of my story that I would love to share with you all.

I meant for this to be an incredibly put-together message, but “Nothing in life makes sense, so you might as well make nonsense!”

Ford’s fight with Bill hits so goddamn hard. Chemo has just carpet-bombed my memory to the point where I completely black-out at times. During my 72-hour straight IV drip, I wake up to finding stuff I’ve done that I would NEVER do. I wrote things that I would never write. I drew things that I would never ever draw. The most notable drawings I have done are focused around the Eye of Providence and are surrounded—from top to bottom—by code I am still deciphering. This is terrifying to me and makes me feel like a spectator in my own body. Every single time it happens, it always takes me off guard no matter how prepared I think I am…

Chemo Me VS Regular Me Art (think you can figure out which is which??? -△)

However, the reason why I’m not quite as paralyzed with fear as I was is that whenever shit hits the fan, as embarrassing as it is to admit, to comfort myself I think about Stanford Pines. I think about how at the end of a long and hard battle with something indescribably wicked, he learned to trust people and got the support he needed. The path he treaded was full of pain, blood, and tears but he made it. The survival rate for my stage of cancer is catastrophically low on paper, but 6 is my lucky number. You can guess the reason, or I seriously question how you got into Gravity Falls in the first place!

I live and breathe this show, I live and breathe what Stanford Pines has gone through. I just need to make it past Weirdmageddon.

We appendix cancer patients have this crazy surgery which is known in the medical community as the “Mother of All Surgeries.” Most surgeons refuse to attempt it because of a lack of proven studies due to how few of us there are and how little research there is. The small sample size often causes it to be considered a crazy borderline pseudoscience! But it works. I know this because every Appendix Cancer survivor I met at our Pseudomyxoma peritonei (it’s shortened to PMP) Pals group introduces themself and then says that they owe their new lengthened life to as I like to put it, “Our Surgeon Soulmate”. This is my Weirdmaggedon.

HIPEC (the aforementioned surgery, Hyperthermic intraperitoneal chemotherapy) involves cutting open the sternum to the groin, scooping out every single organ that isn’t necessary for survival, filling the space with liquid chemo, and then sloshing you around a little on the table so it all sets in (like a little cancer smoothie). Then they’ll drain it all out, sew you up, and wake you up. (I drew Ford doing it while on chemo—you can see it in the Imgur link-I also have zero memories of this, and it's hilarious-you gotta laugh at the pain or you will cry) The only way to relieve the crippling pain besides exceeding a survivable dose of painkiller is to get up. You have to get up and walk—I mean laps around the ICU. I’ve done it. The laps at least. All the hundred-some people at the conference have. It hurts like crazy but the only way to get better is to fight through it. It's either fight or die.

Welp! There’s your summary of puppet hour with Silver, and my own personal metal plate.

I have the proof to back this up, as I have been living with this since my diagnosis in March. Knowing all of you, some of you may have taken “Trust No One!” to heart, which is legitimate for a post like this. This was just a brief summary of my story that I would love to share with you all. I've censored my personal information, and pictures I'm sending, as well as my face and my father's face. I'm also adding some of the art that I've done on chemo.

PROOF: https://imgur.com/a/ljb98NL

Attached is all the preliminary proof I’m willing to let anybody and everybody see. It’s a mix of identity-confirming photos, people I care about, art that I made while on chemo to help get me through it, proof of my hospital stays and pictures of me during hospital chemo, as well as a picture of myself on chemo simply so you can see how much it takes out of me from those early on photos of me from my tumor removal surgery to today. That was round six. Now I’m in the middle of round twelve: my last one. Before my final battle with Cipher, I’m hoping I can get my personal chemo Journal signed by Hirsch, at the very least. And if the guy wants to join the stream and hear my pretty decent Ford impression, well…who am I to complain? Alex if you're reading this, even if you can’t sign my book, I’d love for you to read the journal entry I wrote addressed to you. I sent my friend Alia to NYCC with a cut-out journal page for you to sign, with this letter to be read, but it didn’t end up working out. Even so, it would mean so much to me if it made it to you somehow.

Hopefully, this gets a shitload of views and reposts that find their way to Alex. As a bonus (some of you are going to adore this) I am going to link a Twitch fundraiser for Appendix Cancer in the post as well, and do a live stream of an ENTIRE reading of a Mystery Fanfic with me as Ford and an absolutely amazing Bill impersonator- @weasel!!! @_<;;! I bet you are so curious, knowing this server. “Come on Fordsy, don’t you want to take my hand? Just say the word!”

Art done by @🐔mother hen goblin🐔

We had this art piece made to promote the stream! Heed the warnings! Also, depending on the VA's endurance, I will also host an open mic for people to share their love of Gravity Falls and their reasoning for helping me.

The Twitch stream will begin on △ 10/26/2024 6:00PM EST.

△ If you cannot make this-never fear! It will all be recorded for your future viewing pleasure. This exact time is subject to change, please check back the day of to make sure that this stays the same.

Twitch Stream Link: triangle_tumor - Twitch

Donation Link: https://pmppals.net/silvers-triangle-tumor/…

I hope to see as many of you as possible present in the stream. This fanfiction means so much to so many of us. Both Bill and Ford's relationship in canon and especially in this fic encapsulates the visceral horror, suffering, and trauma that comes with going through chemo and beating the ⭐⚡#💀＄out of the triangle tumor. I am also getting OFFICIALLY endorsed by r/Gravity Falls as well as PMP Pals (An Official Appendix Cancer Organization) for this fundraiser.

I cannot tell you how absolutely hyped I am for everything going down.

Pleasepleaseplease join the stream if you can, and for SURE blow up this Reddit post! Thank you all so much for being a part of this and helping me through my fight.

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Silver Cipher △

P.S. FUCK Cancer

SOCIALS/OFFICIAL ACCOUNTS

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Triangletumor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/triangletumormanifesto/?next=%2F

Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/triangle_tumor

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@TriangleTumorManifesto

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hopefully this doesn't come off as snarky, but I find it genuinely hilarious that every "big-name" Leona fan that I've seen seems to like him against their will lol. I've always had Leona as my favorite, so it's fun to see the journey other people go through to liking/appreciating him!

Look 💦 I can’t speak for other L*ona likers (regardless of size, honestly; I'm a firm believer that one's level of internet fame isn't a factor in the devotion for a character) but for me—to quote Scar—“my words are a matter of pride.” And by confessing to (ick 🤢) LIKING LION… it’s throwing all that pride out of a window. It seriously does feel like these feelings exist against my will.

I have a summary of my story to explain my relationship with the lion lore 💀 I call it a summary, but it’s still kind of long— It's below the cut for those who are interested!

To begin with, the promotional materials didn’t sell me on him. Everything about how he initially presents—from his arrogance to his “tough/bad boy” design (seriously, that biker-cowboy combo of his dorm uniform is SO ugly and shows way too much skin for my liking…)—was so unappealing to me. He seemed exactly like the kind of character and tropes I tend to dislike. The only “good” thing I saw in him was his face (which, ironically, is what Vil says about him) and maybe his UM chant particularly the line where he demands you kneel before him. Then comes along book 2, which is easily the weakest of the main story and does a HUGE disservice to him, making L*ona seem a lot stupider than he actually is. At that point, I had basically written his entire character off. I claimed to all my Twst friends that there was nothing that would ever make me like him.

Around 2022, I decided to get involved in a round of EBG (Epic Bias Game) which is basically like a test of your will?? You’re supposed to compete with your friends to see who can go for the longest without talking about or acknowledging their oshi (which includes not being able to react to fan works of them). As part of EBG, each participant was randomly assigned a “new oshi” to replace the usual one AND GUESS WHAT, I GOT HANDED L*ONA BY THE WHEEL OF FATE 💀

One of my friends (who knew I hardcore hated him at the time) assured me that this would get me to change my mind. They even went out of their way to write a little story explaining how my OC was forced to spend more time with L*ona, which led me into writing interactions between them to build more of the lore. I managed to outlast the friend in EBG, but didn’t win the entire game. I came out of it not really feeling super different about L*ona, but I think forcing myself to write about him extensively helped me gain a little more perspective on his character. I still didn’t like him, but I at least appreciated his presence in the cast a little more.

AND THEN TWST HAD TO COME AND BASH ME OVER THE HEAD WITH L*ONA CONTENT… All the little vignettes and voice lines where other characters would talk about what a good leader he is (*glares at Epel, Jack, Ruggie, Savanaclaw mobs, etc.*), when he sarcastically claims to be a “delicate prince” or a “lost child”, those moments where he sasses others, times when he’s able to use his charisma and/or intelligence to pull ahead, rare instances when he whips out his royal manners, him respecting women… But I think the turning point for me had to have been book 6 OTL GOOD LORD, BOOK 6 FUCKED ME UP 😭 Him using his UM in a creative way to turn falling glass shards into harmless sand? And strategically turning himself in?? Willingly ceding control of the dorm to Ruggie??? Telling everyone about Styx’s lore???? AND THE BEEF HE HAD WITH JAMIL BUT STILL GIVING HIM WISDOM AND ADVICE… Sometimes I still tear up thinking about how L*ona says “You’re not like me,” to Jamil 😔 implying that part of the reason why L*ona guides others is because he has hope in their futures but not his own… (I’m still salty that EN messed up this line by changing it to “I’m not like you,” which makes him come off as way more arrogant 💦) Anyway, I blame book 6 for being the tipping point in my downward spiral 🌀 IT GOT WORSE IN BOOK 7 WHEN HE STARTED SHOWING HE'S MOTIVATED TO ACTUALLY GRADUATE AND TAKES ON AN INTERNSHIP THAT COULD BENEFIT HIS COUNTRY... Special shoutout to the Club Wear card for being especially hot-- I did my best to hold out against the steady drip of content that called attention to his… positive traits… (Not that I’m saying he doesn’t have any; I mean this in that whenever his strengths as a character are brought up, they really get to me as someone who loves intelligent, mature/responsible types and “big brother” figures OTL) BUT IT'S SO HARD WHEN TWST KEEPS PULLING STUFF LIKE THAT???

Then in 2024 came the stupid Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas event 💀 which finally introduced us to L*ona in full formal attire (MY WEAKNESS) and gave him the opportunity to be in the role of the "hero" and leader... and those Nightmare Suit vignettes 😭 Leona thinking about what it actually means to be "king"... Ugh, it was another strong showing of his character. I'm pretty sure it was this event that started the snowball of my friends (lovingly) bullying me about him and calling me a tsundere about it. Weirdly enough, a BUNCH of things started happening irl to push L*ona at me too. For example, my pet (who usually actively avoids or attacks Twst stuff) was actually eager to pose for a picture with a L*ona standee. In a group fan merch order, I had asked for the bonus Grim sticker but the artist (who had no idea about my complicated thoughts on L*ona) said they were out of the Grim sticker but they had L*ona stickers they could include instead. Most recently, I had just finished this last-minute artwork of Miss Raven eating pocky by herself to celebrate Pocky Day (11/11). Typically the fan art you'd see on this day would involve two characters playing the "Pocky Game" (in which the players try to eat a stick of pocky from either end; usually it's framed as romantic since meeting in the middle results in a kiss). However, I had chosen to do a solo Miss Raven art because I thought this suited her "I want to be taken seriously!" personality better. Well, guess what? I GOT A PACKAGE DELIVERY NOTIFICATION FOR THE TWST MERCH ORDER... WITH L*ONA IN IT 💀 Almost like he heard there was food meant for sharing and he came to claim it for himself... Like I literally did NOT choose for these things to happen to me, THEY HAPPENED ON THEIR OWN. I DON'T BELIEVE IN PREORDAINED EVENTS BUT THE UNIVERSE SURE IS WORKING IN STRANGE WAYS.

So now that the tables have turned, it’s really embarrassing. Everything is coming back to bite me in the butt… It truly feels like L*ona plotted this all along and was on the prowl, patiently waiting for me to get worn down before he pounces and delivers the final blow to my ego OTL Like, it's gotten to the point where many of my long-time friends in the Twst community are now joking that "It's over" for J word... ONE OF THEM EVEN TOLD ME IT FEELS LIKE I'M GETTING DIVORCED AND L*ONA IS THEIR NEW STEPDAD, HOW AM I SUPPSOED TO FEEL ABOUT HTHAT ??????????? ? ? ????? ? ??? ? ?? ?? ? ???? ?

But by the far the worst, the WORST part about everything here is that if L*ona were fully sentient, he would be so smug about recent developments 😡 It makes me SO mad thinking about how he'd look down on me with that hot smug rage-inducing smirk of his and make fun of me for eating my words so badly.

“What was that you said about hating my guts, herbivore? … Hah, it's written all over your face--you're terrible at hiding your true feelings. You can just give in, you know. Tell me how much you worship me. How much you want me. You'll give in eventually one way or another--so why not make this easier for the both of us and save us the time of playing the wait game? I don't bite, promise." (<- a liar)

(Disclaimer: NOT MY MERCH; this is a L*ona Liker friend’s picture that they’re letting me use as a reaction image 😅)

THIS IS FR MY OVERBLOT ORIGIN STORY…

[undreaming-fanfiction]

For A Handful of Bandaids

This is my entry for SpicySixWinterFanworksChallenge organized by the lovely @thefreakandthehair.

“Hey Steve, do you know where we’ve got some bandaids?”

In hindsight, Eddie should have known that a simple question like that would never prompt a simple response from his boyfriend. Steve was many things - brave, loyal, a great cook, wonderful in bed, but most of all - he tool Eddie’s well-being very seriously. He was a raging bull whose red flag was anything related to health, injury, sickness or danger, no matter how small.

Well. Not really raging. More like anxious, caring and always ready to whip out half of a pharmacy.

So of course, the answer wasn’t “they’re in the second drawer,” nope.

Instead, Steve stood up, grabbed Eddie by his shoulders and started checking him for injuries. “Eddie, are you hurt? Did someone in town attack you again? Shit, I thought things’ve calmed down, did you recognize them?”

It would have been hilarious if Eddie hadn’t hated making Steve worried.

He reached for Steve’s hands, still on his shoulders, and put on his most persuasive voice. “Steve, baby, I swear I’m fine! No attacks, no black eyes, no broken bones. I’m completely fine!” He even grabbed his collar and moved it to the side so Steve could check. “See? No strangulation marks. Uh...no new strangulation marks, post-bat.”

Steve seemed to be calming down, good. Fantastic. “So...” he said slowly, “...you don’t need them for yourself? Did one one of the kids get hurt? Wayne?”

Eddie really wanted to punch himself in the face now. Why hadn’t he spent those five extra minutes looking for the bandaids himself?!

“No. Look, Steve. I need them for myself, but for something small. Something very very VERY tiny. I just made a not-so-ideal decision and now I want to treat the consequences.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed and his stare traveled directly into Eddie’s soul. “Eddie. What. Did. You. Do?”

“...I think it would be easier to show you.”

---

In another hindsight, it would have been easier to tell Steve. If Eddie thought seeing the crime scene would calm his boyfriend down, he was dead wrong.

Steve’s eyes traveled over the destruction. Eddie’s books, neatly arranged on bookshelves that morning, were now lying everywhere. The books from the bookcase didn’t fare any better - except the bookcase was now lying on them, over their bed. Speaking of the bed, the plant that they saved from a local dumpster and nurtured back to health? That plant was now depotted over Eddie’s pillow.

He sucked in a breath through his front teeth. “Did someone break in?”

Eddie shook his head so fast his hair became a tangled mess. “No. Nono. Steve. No one invaded our wonderful home. No one damaged our property. I mean, someone did, but it was...very much deserved.”

“Eddie. Explain. Now.”

“Oh yeah. Sure. Will do. Um...how long a version do you want?”

“Concise.”

“Right. In short - Ozzy did this.” Noticing Steve’s disbelieving stare, Eddie quickly added: “But I deserved it. Totally.”

Steve sat down onto the single clean and empty spot on their bed. “Are you telling me that our cat knocked over a full bookcase?”

Eddie had the decency to look guilty. “Oh no, that was me.”

“I take back the “concise” request. Tell me everything. Step by step.”

“Right.” Eddie’s eyes darted between each aspect of the crime scene, trying to put together a reasonable explanation. “So. I was sitting on the bed with Ozzy. He didn’t like something I did and decided to run away, but I was...sort of connected to him.”

“Sort of connected...?”

Eddie waved his hand. “I’ll explain. But as he was escaping, I had to go after him, because you know...connected. And he really didn’t like that. So he jumped up that bookcase and we were still-”

“-connected?” Steve didn’t seem to understand or believe any of it, but he was certainly entertained.

“Yep. So I tried to climb the bookcase and get him down.”

Steve’s palm connected with his forehead with a resounding slap. “Eddie. Do you know how physics work?”

Snorting, Eddie shook his head. “Of course I don’t, Steve. Failed high school twice, remember? But I also know your grades and because of that I dare to say - neither do you. Not that physics would have gotten Ozzy down.”

“That part is true.” Steve was grinning back at him, imagining the chaos. “So, you climbed the bookcase and it fell on you. What next?”

Eddie pointed at the sad remains of Steve’s plant. “I knew how much you love that plant, so I decided to save it. Since it was on that bookshelf. I heroically leapt from the bookcase and towards the plant, but I have miscalculated my daring rescue.”

Steve’s eyebrows did that adorable confused scrunch. “You what?”

“I jumped too fast and it fell on my head.”

“Oh.”

Eddie nodded, touching a sore spot on his nape. “Yeah. And my head gave it that extra bounce to land on the pillow. Wrong side up, I’m afraid.”

Steve reached out to the plant and picked it up, examining its leaves. “I think she’ll live. She’s a strong girl. Continue.”

“Not much more to tell,” Eddie shrugged. “Ozzy used the commotion to disconnect himself from me and darted outside. I got soil out of my hair and went to ask you for bandaids.

Steve was stroking the plant’s leaves, checking for damage. “The one thing I don’t understand is this. How didn’t I hear it happening?”

“Oh, it was much faster than it sounds. And I believe you were washing the dishes.”

“That explains it,” Steve nodded and set the plant into its miraculously unharmed flower pot. “One more question then. How were you connected?”

Eddie started chewing on his hair and looking at the ground instead of Steve. “You know...it’s almost Christmas, right?” he asked in a quiet voice. “And you love Christmas. Everyone knows you love Christmas, so...”

“Eddie. How were you connected?” he repeated slowly, carefully.

He smiled sheepishly, pulling something colorful from his pocket. “Do you know how they say that fate connects you with a red string? Something like that. The rest shall be revealed when we find Ozzy. I think he’s hiding under the sink again.”

Steve stood up and sighed the deepest sigh Eddie had heard in ages. “I have no clue where this is going,”

---

Ozzy was, as Eddie had predicted, hiding under the sink. He was hiding really well, 10/10 would not find the cat, except for the red wool that led from the corridor directly to the bathroom. And when they finally got the unhappy cat out with promises of treats and even more treats, Steve finally saw it and laughed.

“Really, this is what you did?” he asked and reached out to free Ozzy.

Despite his prompt escape, Ozzy still bore wounds from his brave fight against Eddie. Except those weren’t wounds, it was a half-unraveled red Christmas sweater. Steve thought he recognized Claudia Henderson’s work. No matter who knitted it, Ozzy obviously hated the idea.

Eddie was, just like the sweater, bright red. “See, it was nearly finished and I promised to try it on him, just to see if it fits. And when he decided he didn’t like it, which was pretty much immediately, I think one of the loose threads got caught on my rings. So...yeah.”

 Steve pulled him into a kiss and scratched Ozzy’s back, now free from the wooly prison.

“You really thought you could get that sweater on our cat? You’re adorable. I’ll get those bandaids.”

[aro-geo-turtle]

In penumbra podcast, Nureyev is introduced in full Dark Matters secret agent disguise, including dark sunglasses. But I see him usually portrayed as wearing normal, prescription glasses later on. This leaves me with several options:

1. He temporarily discarded his prescription glasses in favor of the sunglasses, and consequently spent the entirety of the Murderous Mask unable to see for shit

2. Dark Matters gives its agents custom Dark Matters prescription sunglasses and Nureyev’s persona was so airtight he went through the whole process to get them

3. Juno happened not to mention that “Rex’s” sunglasses were attachable clip-on lenses worn on top of his normal glasses

4. Nureyev’s normal glasses are in fact not prescription at all, and he simply wears them for the ✨style ✨so he didn’t have a problem not wearing them

I find all of these absolutely hilarious, but I’m personally voting for number 3, as a clip-on sunglasses wearer myself

[averytirednerd]

Just watched the 1x07 sneak peek

and AAAAAAAA

My week’s already been pretty crappy so far, and I desperately needed this 😭

Nearly two minutes of Alastor and Charlie, ft. them actually discussing things I wanna hear about!!!

These are some of my favorite things from the scene:

Charlie’s angry facial expressions towards Alastor are truly a highlight of this clip. She looks adorable wrapped up in her little blanket burrito, which is a plus.

I also adore the fact that it’s Alastor who’s trying to cheer Charlie up, and get her to stop wallowing in self-loathing (whether it’s just b/c it helps him or not, I still like it). I wonder if he took it upon himself to or the others nudged him in that direction.

I also love Alastor’s passive-aggressive comments in the beginning of the clip. He seems really frustrated and it’s hilarious to see.

“Who’s joking?”

THE WAY HE JUST APPEARED AND THE WAY AMIR TALAI DELIVERED THE LINE AND CHARLIE FELL OFF THE BED AND-

I like it :]

Ngl I’m disappointed in myself for deriving so much joy from watching Alastor be all silly and mess around on the bed. BUT ALSO I MEAN C’MON HIS LEGS WERE KICKING BACK AND FORTH WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME??? Not to mention he’s being all silly like this, just vibing, while Charlie’s having a little meltdown. Very fun juxtaposition to see.

YESSS FINALLY SOMEONE PROPERLY MENTIONING THE WHOLE SMILING THING, I WAS WONDERING HOW LONG IT’D TAKE FOR THAT TO BE BROUGHT UP

And the reason why I wanted someone to question him, so we’d get to hear Al’s response. The look into Al’s thought processes is amazing! It’s exactly what I thought he’d say, and I’m pleased with that now being checked off my list of things I wanted from this season. I’m so happy that Charlie knows this now too.

And last but certainly not least… “I know something you don’t know~”

WHAT? WHAT IS IT, ALASTOR? HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME HANGING 😭

Edit: Sitting there, after having rewatched the clip like 20 more times post making-this, it finally clicked that he’s probably talking about the exterminator. You know, the dead one. As the lovely comment down below has pointed out, he says it after Charlie mentions the exterminators being “invincible.” Now it’s just a matter of whether he tells her, if he does then how, and how exactly Charlie reacts to this information. Can’t wait :]

[lightdancingwords]

Come Find Me - Part Three

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Beau POV

Series Summary: You are a new arrival to Big Sky, Montana, and found gainful employment with the local insurance department next door to the sheriff’s department. A whole new life with your past haunting you, while Beau is still dealing with the entanglements with his ex-wife. Can either of you succeed in overcoming your ghosts?

Word Count: 4,214

Tags/Warnings: some fluff, some angst, divorce, child in middle of fighting parents, mention of domestic violence/intimate partner violence, profanity

Divider: credit to @tsunami-of-tears

A/N: I'm still learning tags and warnings, so if I got something wrong or mislabeled or missing, please let me know. I'm also still learning to do Y/N and "you" writing. Bear with me, folks! Enjoy!

Chapter Three: The Autumn Festival

Y/N had been working at The Big Guy for a couple of weeks, swamped with handling the clientele. In the mornings, you’d open up and be inundated with phone calls and appointments. Doris made sure you ate—she’d sit on you to make sure and nearly made that threat a reality once—and traded gossip with you. You actually looked forward to her visits; she was the calm that anchored your life. She was practical, hilarious, and willing to call you out when you put yourself down. She was great for your self-confidence.

Despite her warning the first time she brought you lasagna for lunch, Beau did not come to talk to you about the files. If anything, he seemed busy every time you saw him—he’d be on the cellphone, interviewing victims or witnesses, or doing a ton of paperwork. You felt your heart clench, confused.

You weren’t ready for a relationship, you’d told yourself a dozen times. Then you’d remember the way it felt when Beau held you and allowed you to cry into his chest and your heart ached. Men were definitely confusing, you decided.

One morning, as you arrived early to open the office, Doris caught you with a large poster in hand. “Mind if I post this on your door, sweetie?”

“What is it?” you asked, intrigued.

Doris showed you. It was a lovely orange-brown color with bright yellow words announcing Big Sky’s Autumn Festival. There was a list of events that would happen—a dance, potluck style buffet, a pumpkin carving contest, Big Sky’s largest pumpkin competition, and an apple bobbing contest. You boggled, amazed. Billings never had anything like that.

“Oh this is charming!” You gave Doris a smile. “Yeah, go ahead and put it on the door. I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Excellent! Got any tape, hon? I forgot to grab some.”

You nodded, and snatch the Scotch tape dispenser. Just as you turned back to hand it to Doris, you spot Beau stalking out of the sheriff department, a stormy look on his face. He slammed his truck door and took out of the parking lot with a squeal of wheels.

“What the… is everything all right, Doris?” you asked, handing her the tape dispenser.

She pursed her lips. “What I’m about to tell you, you are sworn to secrecy. Do I make myself clear?”

Your brows lift in surprise. “Of course.” You wondered what it could be that Doris was about to tell you that would require such a promise. Not that you’d go around gossiping.

“It’s Carla. She’s not letting Beau have Emily for Thanksgiving.” Doris’s expression spoke volumes as to her opinion on the matter.

“Oh.” You weren’t sure how to take that. “Is… is there a reason? I mean, don’t they all live here in Big Sky?”

“Yes,” Doris said with a frown. “But Carla wants to take Emily out of state to see family in Texas. Beau can’t take the time off to do it.”

“Oh…” Your heart sank, aching for Beau. “That has to be hard for him.”

“It is. It is.” Doris sighed, finished putting the poster on the door. “Doesn’t help he’s still half-in-love with Carla.”

Your heart clenched. “What?”

Doris must’ve heard something in your tone and gave you an apologetic look. “I know I said he looked smitten with you, hon, but—”

“No, it’s fine,” you said with a wave of your hand, lying through your teeth. In a way, yes, Doris’s comment had bolstered your hopes of maybe something happening, though you weren’t sure you could handle a relationship right now. The thought of competing against an ex-wife and a teenager wasn’t exactly on your Bingo card.

“Uh huh.” You swear, Doris had a built-in lie detector. “Look… it’s complicated. Just like it is for you.”

You swallowed hard, a lump in your throat. “It is…”

“You’ll get there, hon,” Doris said kindly. “I did.”

You blink in surprise. “You found love after Stan died?”

“Oh, wait until I tell you about Adam!” Doris laughed, low and full of affection. “But not right now. Beau’s comin’ back and lord, he looks set to burn.” She sighed and shook her head. “Will you come to the festival?”

You glanced at the poster. Normally you hated gatherings, but you knew it was because of Mark. Mark made everything impossible—if not for bruises, it was his attitude. You were free now, and no more black eyes. “I’ll be there,” you decided bravely.

“Excellent! We’ll see you Saturday!”

Doris left, heading out to the parking lot to meet Beau. His expression was still stormy. You watched him interact with Doris for a few moments, his eyes dark, his expression guarded. You felt your heart ache for him, wondered if it was a fight with Carla.

As though he sensed your gaze on him, Beau looked up. Even shaded, even dark with anger, the green of his eyes were undeniable. For a long moment, the two of you held each other’s eyes. Then, he nodded to you, and turned his attention back to Doris.

Heart pounding, you went back to work, answering the first call of the day.

—

“Well, it just ain’t fair, Carla—” Beau fumed as his ex-wife once again cut him off. He heard her, then snapped, “You can’t have her for both holidays, dammit! No I won’t watch my blasted language! She’s my daughter too!”

Doris watched him through the window of his office door, and more often than not, heard everything he was yelling into the phone. She shook her head sadly, waited for him to finish.

“I’m her father, Carla! I’d like to actually see her before the damned new year and have a goddamned—no, I won’t watch my tone or my language!” Beau pulled his phone from his ear and scowled when he realized Carla had hung up on him. It took everything he had not to fling the phone across the room.

He raked his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to yank at his hair or punch the wall. It wasn’t that he was prone to violence; just that Carla had him thoroughly upset and he honestly didn’t know what to do. Technically, yes, Emily was old enough to make the decision to not see him for the holidays, but he didn’t think his daughter would actually avoid him.

God, he missed his daughter. She’d been so busy with school, with her extracurricular activities, with her boyfriend, and even working part-time over at Cassie’s private detective agency. He kept thinking that maybe she was avoiding him because of the kidnapping, that seeing him brought back the trauma, but Emily kept insisting it wasn’t that.

He just… missed her.

And Carla.

He missed his family. He missed what he had. He had something so beautiful and then he lost it because of a goddamned bullet. Beau clutched at his cellphone hard, his head bent, as he struggled with the intense emotions swirling inside him.

He heard the polite knock on his door and looked up to see Doris entering. He let out a sigh and stood up straight, tucking his cellphone into his pocket.

“Carla’s not cooperating, is she?” Doris asked, straight to the point.

“She says it’s Emily,” Beau muttered.

Doris narrowed her eyes at Beau. “Why don’t you believe her?”

“Because I—” Beau bit off the rest of his comment.

“Because you can’t let her go,” Doris concluded and shook her head.

Beau turned away, clenching his jaw. He honestly hated how observant Doris could be at times, and this was one of them. She just saw through the bullshit and called him out, even when he threatened to fire her over it.

“Beau… don’t make me say it again,” Doris scolded fondly.

His shoulders tensed.

She rolled her eyes and proceeded to say it again. “Carla’s moved on. She’d remarried once, widowed, and last I heard, she and her new boyfriend are doing pretty damned well.”

“I know that!” he snapped, turning to face Doris.

“Well, then, act like it!” Doris retorted, not at all afraid of his anger, the threat of losing her job, none of it. “How long you gonna hold onto this dead marriage? Before or after it chokes you?”

“I—” Beau let out a heavy sigh and slapped his hand on the desk.

Doris regarded him with something akin to pity. She used to have a ton of compassion for him, then as time went by, she realized that he was clinging to something that festered like an infected wound. He couldn’t let Carla go, because he still loved her. But clearly, Carla moved on, finding love not once, but twice, since the end of their marriage.

One sided love wasn’t love, but obsession. Doris was going to keep smacking that into Beau until he finally learned that lesson.

“Is Emily leaving town this weekend?”

“What?” Beau looked up, confused by the odd question. “No. She’ll be here.”

“Invite her to the Autumn Festival then,” Doris said. “Spend the weekend with her. Have fun.”

Beau blinked at Doris, as he realized she was right. The festival would be a nice event to spend with Emily.

Doris rolled her eyes. “I swear, Beau, you’re thickheaded at times.” She shook her head. “Call Carla back, apologize for yelling at her, and extend the invitation to Emily. Have fun with your daughter this weekend.”

Beau scowled at Doris, grabbed his cellphone, muttering profanities under his breath.

Doris smirked and left his office.

—

It was festival day. The weather was brisk with just enough sunlight to keep the temperature on the warm side. You picked a simple light sweater, jeans, and comfortable low boots, your hairstyle simple to keep the wind from throwing your hair in your face, and your makeup basic. You looked, in your mind and opinion, cute.

Arriving at the festival, you found that the downtown of Big Sky had been taken over by all sorts of harvest and autumn theme decorations. As though Halloween and Thanksgiving wasn’t enough, they simply had to insist on additional festivities. You found you didn’t mind, because it was charming and fun, a way to cling to the warm weather before Montana winter kicked in.

You parked at the local public parking and opted to walk the way to downtown. There were crowds of families of all colors, shapes and sizes. One family in particular had you aching, because they were juggling a number of small children and a baby in a stroller. The dream you wished you could have.

Determined not to let Mark and your past bring you down today, you shoved that thought into the back of your mind. Today was a day of fun. You’re gonna have fun, dang it.

“Y/N!”

You looked back and saw Doris heading up to you. She was wearing a cheerful orange sweater that didn’t quite hurt your eyes, with pumpkin-topped hair pins in her bun. You couldn’t help it, her appearance made you smile.

“Hi Doris!”

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Doris said, grabbing a hold of your elbow. “I have so many people to introduce you to! You’ll love them! Maybe make a friend or two!”

“But—”

“Nonsense. Come on.”

You surrendered to the force of nature that was Doris and resigned yourself to being shown off to a number of people in Big Sky. You ended up introducing yourself multiple families, multiple groups of women, and quite a few of the men. Most were friendly, with a couple of seemingly off-putting personalities.

By the end, you felt smiled out and ready to isolate yourself for a bit. Maybe grab a snack or try the apple cider you kept seeing folks with. Doris seemed to sense you needed to recharge and dragged you to the food vendors.

“I expect to see you by the dance floor later, hon,” she said with a smile, waving you off.

You could only stare after her. Definitely a formidable woman. You shook your head with a small smile, and decided to indulge in some apple cider.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You nearly spill your drink as you jerked around and saw Beau with a young woman with dark brown hair and dark eyes. Instantly, you knew she had to be Beau’s daughter, because there was something about the shape of her mouth and eyebrows that made you think of him.

“Hey!” You smile; the smile came so easily.

“Hey. Y/N, this is Emily, my daughter.” Beau gestured to you. Emily stepped forward, offering her hand. You took it easily as he continued the introduction. “Em, this is Y/N. She works for Arthur at The Big Guy.”

“Oh yeah! Arthur’s such a hoot,” Emily said. Her grip was firm. It instantly reminded you of how Beau shook your hand.

“You’ve met him?” you ask, genuinely interested.

Emily nodded brightly. “Oh yeah! I was visiting my dad at the department and Arthur came in ‘cause one of his clients needed a little more help than he initially thought. Before you know it, I’m hearing all sorts of language from dad’s office.”

You laugh, glancing at Beau to confirm. He had this pained look on his face that had you biting back another laugh.

“Not the best introduction,” Beau said simply.

“I learned a lot of new words,” Emily said with a cheery grin.

Beau groaned, covering his face with his hand for a moment. You gave in and laughed some more.

“He’s definitely a colorful character,” you said in agreement. “I never had a boss like him before.”

“I’ll bet!” Emily beamed. “I’m sure you learned a few new words you could teach me.”

“Em!”

You grinned, amused at Beau’s outrage. “Fortunately for your father, no, I didn’t. I’ve been covering the office while Arthur’s been out of state dealing with some family problems.”

“Oh. Darn.”

“Em!”

You bit back a laugh. You liked Emily. “You’re planning to go to college, Emily?”

“I am! I’ve been looking at University of Texas,” she announced. Beau glanced at her in surprise. Clearly that was news to him too.

“Then trust me,” you confided with a playful grin meant for Beau, “you’ll learn a whole lot when you get there.”

“You are not helping,” Beau accused.

“I’m supposed to corrupt young people,” you said with a smile.

Beau threw you an exasperated look that had you laughing. Emily even joined in the laugh, her dark eyes sparkling.

“In all seriousness,” you said with a smile. “What do you plan on studying at U of T?”

“I’ve been interesting in doing videos and recording, so maybe media,” Emily said.

Beau glanced at her. “I thought you gave that up after last year?” he asked. There was something in his tone that pricked your interest. You wondered if it was related to the kidnapping that involved Emily and the serial killer.

“Well… I decided that I wasn’t going to let Buck destroy my joy,” Emily said, her response measured.

“That’s very brave of you, Emily,” you said gently, entirely understanding where the young woman was coming from. You found yourself thinking about the joy Mark had taken from you, and what you had just said to Emily. Maybe it was time to recapture some of the joy he denied you.

Emily straightened under your praise. Evidently it meant a great deal to her that you were impressed. You wondered what Beau told her about you.

“I’m going to get some churros, okay, dad?” Emily asked, before adding to you, “It’s really nice to meet you, Y/N! I’ll see you around.”

You waved ‘bye’ to Emily, and she left you and Beau alone.

“She’s a lovely girl, Beau,” you murmured, glancing up at him. “She’s got your spirit.”

“You never met her mom,” Beau said, wry and amused.

You chuckle. “Is she here? I’d love to meet her.”

“God, Y/N, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Oh, Beau, it can’t possibly be that bad,” you chide gently.

He sighed, rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. It’s been a bad few days.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. You truly were. Beau seemed like a sweet man who had a bad hand a few times in his life.

“No, it…” He shook his head. “It’s not your problem, Y/N.”

You stiffen, offended. “I thought we were at least friends, Beau.”

“What?”

“Or… oh.” You took a step back. “It really was just… words. Nevermind.”

It stung. You did care about Beau. You thought he actually cared about you. Your mind flashed back to the hug, the way he comforted you. Maybe you read too much in that moment. God. You felt stupid. The emotions were swirling in turmoil inside you.

Damn Doris for getting your hopes up.

“No, Y/N, that’s not it,” Beau said, stepping forward and gently grabbing your arm. “Hey…” He gently gripped your shoulders, meeting your gaze. “This ain’t easy for me,” he went on, his voice low and soft.

“What isn’t?” you asked, your voice equally low.

“I…” He released her shoulders. His jaw clenched as he struggled with his emotional upheaval. “We are friends,” he said at last, his voice tight.

“Then why does it sound like it kills you to just say that?” you asked, searching his face. “Friendship shouldn’t be hard, Beau.”

“You ain’t being fair,” he said.

“I’m not being fair?” you echoed in disbelief. “You said you cared and then you turned around and acted like I don’t!”

“What? No, that’s not—”

“I need some air,” you said, cutting him off. The miscommunication between the two of you was distressing you to proportions you weren’t able to handle in that moment. When you saw Beau take a step toward you, you held up a hand. “Don’t! I just… I need a moment, Beau. Please.”

You saw his jaw clench and he swallowed hard, as though holding back a response. Then he held his hands up and stepped back. You let out a relieved breath and walked away, your thoughts all tumult. Relationships, god, they were so difficult. She could barely handle a friendship, what made her think she could handle anything more? And Beau—

“Hey Y/N,” Emily greeted, holding a churro in her hand. She paused, then studied your face. “Oh. Dad got stupid, huh?”

You blink, blink again. “H-how…?”

Emily smiled ruefully. “Dad’s in the habit of doing stupid shit.”

“I should scold you for language, but I did say I’d corrupt you,” you joked. Such a bad joke, but Emily grinned.

“But yeah…” Emily sighed. “Dad’s… done stupid stuff. He does foot in mouth all the time. He should, like, get an award or something.”

You smile, bemused. “Any tips on how to get him to remove that foot out of his mouth?”

“You mean, besides, like, yelling at him like my mom does?”

“Yes.” You pause, rub the back of your neck. “I don’t think that works though. Um, no offense, but I’ve seen the look on your father’s face after he’s argued with your mom.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen it too,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “My parents are rather infamous for it.” She huffed the breath of an exasperated teenager. “Dad’s just more stubborn than mom.”

“Got any tips?” The words came out before you could stop yourself. “Shit. Oh god, Emily, I—”

Emily was laughing. “I’ve heard worse. Don’t worry.”

“No, it’s not that.” You met Emily’s dark eyes and decided to treat her like an adult. “I shouldn’t be putting you in the middle of any disagreement I’m having with your father.”

“That’s okay. I like you, Y/N. Dad does too. I could tell.”

Your brows felt as though they were going to fly off your forehead. Emily saw and laughed. She shook her head and looped her arm around yours.

“Come on,” Emily said, walking with you through the festival vendors. “Look. Dad’s… stubborn. Mom described it as rock headed and mule stubborn. I always thought that was funny. I kinda get it from him too. Also why we butt heads a lot.”

Bemused, you listened to her as she rambled on.

“Ever since my parents split… dad kinda dug his heels in and wouldn’t move. Drove me crazy. I watched mom date, get a boyfriend, got married. I mean, okay, he also died—” Emily’s voice shook, then she cleared her throat. “But… mom moved on. I know she loves dad. She always will. I’ve seen them together, and I see that they still love each other. It’s just… dad’s still being an idiot.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Do your parents know you’re this perceptive?”

“No.” Emily laughed, her hair brushing her shoulders as she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think they look at me and think I’m still 10.”

“God, I remember that feeling.”

Emily grinned. “But you’re not wrong. Mom… she seems to think if she yells at dad enough, he’ll stop being stupid. It doesn’t work.”

You slant a look at her. She was definitely a mature young woman. You suspected Emily did a lot of growing after her kidnapping… or maybe even during her parents’ divorce. “So what would?”

“Turn it on him. Don’t yell, get him to think. Not like how Doris does it,” she added with a laugh. “She gets away with it because dad doesn’t want to lose the lasagna.”

You laugh. “It really is good lasagna. I can see why he’s terrified of losing it.”

“Well, it’s not just that. Dad’s an awful cook. That lasagna is his one homemade meal.”

“Oh my god. Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Emily grinned, and you saw the difference. You hadn’t met Carla, but suspect that was what you saw in the young woman.

“You’re very wise, Emily,” you said at last, as the two of you ended up at the music stage. The band was beginning to tune their instruments, check the settings of the speakers and microphone. There were ropes to divide a section for sitting and listening or for those who wanted to dance.

“Thanks, but I know I’m not,” Emily said with a half-smile. “I got a lot to learn.”

“That’s wisdom you know,” you said kindly. “Knowing we need to learn. That we don’t know everything. It takes a lot of strength to say that openly.”

Emily slanted a look at you, then asked quietly, “Doesn’t that mean you’re also brave?”

You paused, and glanced at Emily. “Because I asked for help?”

“Even if you didn’t mean to at first, yeah,” Emily said earnestly.

“Thank you, Emily,” you said, having a better understanding of how to approach Beau. Not to mention, a growing friendship with this incredible young woman. “Remind me to trade phone numbers with you before you leave. If you ever need someone to talk to.”

Emily brightened. “I’d like that!” The band began a lively tune and she glanced over at them. “Um, you okay if I go watch?”

“Absolutely.”

You smile as Emily went running to join a group of equally same aged young women. Probably schoolmates or friends. You stood there for a long moment, a warm feeling in your heart. You liked this young woman. She was intelligent, kind, with a bit of sass. Even if things between you and Beau soured, you hoped to remain friends with her.

A familiar presence brushed your senses, and you knew Beau had caught up with you. You took a deep breath to steady yourself, and glanced at him. “Hey…”

“Hey darlin’,” he said, his voice quiet. “Listen… I’m sorry.”

“No,” you murmured, turning to look at him. “I am. I was forcing something when you weren’t ready. I’d probably have better luck pushing a mountain.” You smile gently at him. “I mean, you are kind of similar to one.”

He chuckled low in his throat. “Smartass.”

You grinned, then sobered. “I hope you can tell me what’s going on someday. You’ve been so kind to me, and I care about you.”

Beau met and held your gaze, and something flickered in his green eyes. Something that sparked a kindle of hope in your heart. “Thanks, darlin’,” he said softly, brushing back a loose strand of your hair.

The music changed and he glanced up. He shifted his gaze to you and held out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

Your smile bloomed and took his hand. For the remainder of that night, you and Beau danced. He taught you a particular Texas dance that had you laughing and falling out of step more often than not. He spun you around in a lively waltz. When the evening closed with the last song, he held you close, his hands at your waist.

When the festival lights began to dim, vendors closing up and cleaning out their merchandise, you knew it was time. Beau looked at you for the longest time, something soft and sweet in those brilliant green eyes. He touched your cheek, a whisper of a caress, and murmured his good night.

Heart pounding, you found yourself whispering the good night back and parted ways.

[brucebocchi]

Ranking 2024 anime, Pt. 3: #30-21

hey, this post is also available on my ko-fi, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i do this for free and am currently between jobs. you can find part 1 of the list here and part 2 here. thanks!

We're chugging along. I'd say we're finally getting to the good stuff, and there is plenty of good at this point in the countdown, but I also just really like complaining.

Let's get it.

30. KonoSuba: God’s Blessing on This Wonderful World!, season 3

I have a tendency to refer to the more brainless and/or trashy anime I watch as “junk food.” You know the kind; the ones that don’t really add anything to your life and don’t stand up to the more fulfilling series, but still get the job done when you go into autopilot. I’ve found that, as a habitual (non-metaphorical) snacker, I tend to just reach for something when I’m bored so I have something to do. And looking at it objectively, I don’t tend to enjoy myself while doing it and I usually don’t feel good afterwards.

I feel much the same way about watching KonoSuba.

Not that I think it’s ontologically evil or anything, but KonoSuba often has just as much going against it as it does working in its favor. For every joke that hits, and some of them absolutely do hit, there’s another that makes me question why I’m even watching it. I’m not against dark or even occasionally offensive humor; I adore It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, a show to which KonoSuba often draws comparisons. The issue is that, at its worst, KonoSuba defaults to either “this person is a pervert,” “this person is a pedophile,” or “this man got sexually assaulted.” My issue isn’t with the subject matter so much as the fact that they rarely rise above the level of base shock value and that they keep happening like that. It almost feels perfunctory, like the writers had quotas to meet.

It’s not all bad, though. Even having only gotten into KonoSuba in early 2023, I still found myself lamenting its hiatus, and An Explosion on This Magical World somehow only made the heart grow fonder for the party members that weren’t Megumin. I appreciate that Darkness plays a pivotal role in the third season, because Darkness is hilarious and terrific. This season had a couple of the best jokes and goofy facials in the series. 

Overall, it’s a bit of a wash, but I can’t be too upset. It’s more KonoSuba, and it’s reached the point where that’s practically a value-neutral statement.

29. Wistoria: Wand and Sword

I don’t really have much new to say about Wistoria. It’s not the best magic school anime I watched this year and certainly not the best fantasy, but it looks terrific and it’s a fun enough time if you turn your brain off.

And turning your brain off is a necessity here because Wistoria’s story is as basic as it gets. It’s more or less Mashle if it wasn’t a comedy, and it’s such a transparent, dirt-simple power fantasy that it might as well be an isekai. Guy’s trying to keep a promise to his childhood friend, he sucks at the one thing everyone else does to the point of getting bullied left and right, but he’s super crazy strong in a his own special way. Actually, shit, I just described Kaiju No. 8.

Rule of cool wins out here, and this show does look phenomenal, but it might be better enjoyed via YouTube clips. I’m curious to see where the story goes from here, but I’m not completely sold yet.

28. Chained Soldier

Chained Soldier is horny isekai trash. Chained Soldier fucking rocks. We got big monsters, wild action sequences, unique and memorable character designs, casual femdom, solid comic relief, interesting (if predictable) twists, uncensored boobs, it’s got it all! 

It’s not the best-looking show in some parts, but that’s forgivable. The production values were fine, all things considered, and the action sequences in particular were terrific throughout, but I’m really glad this series is changing studios for the second season. I’ve read ahead in the manga (don’t judge) and Passione is gonna do a bang-up job as the action and shameless fanservice both ramp up.

It’s early in the story and a teensy bit shaky, but Chained Soldier is already a fun time. I have reason to believe it’ll only get better as it goes. And not just because of the boobs.

27. Suicide Squad Isekai

You wanted an isekai starring the Suicide Squad, and by God did you get one. This is a perfectly serviceable series by Suicide Squad standards and a pretty middling isekai otherwise. Nothing about the world in which this series is set is all that interesting or groundbreaking, but you’re here for anime Harley Quinn (and a few other DC villains I guess), and this show delivers.

Fluid, expressive character animation (when the studio wants it), a terrific Japanese voice cast, and entertaining hijinks among Batman’s infamous rogues’ gallery combine for a plenty fun time that ultimately doesn’t have much staying power. If you liked the James Gunn movie, you’ll have a decent time here. No more, no less.

Between Uzumaki’s disastrous production, Lord of the Rings: War of the Rohirrim’s apparent mediocrity, and last year’s unwanted, execrable FLCL Grunge, I’m just glad that at least one recent anime production with Jason DeMarco’s fingerprints on it came out unscathed.

26. ‘Tis Time for “Torture,” Princess

I ended up watching so many discrete series during the winter season that it’s probably not a coincidence that my bottom four series on this ranking (and six of the bottom ten) all aired during that season. When you filter feed, you’re gonna take in a lot of garbage. Sometimes you need some stuff that’s “just fine” to clean the palate.

‘Tis Time for “Torture,” Princess is probably a bit better than even “just fine,” but it’s not gonna be a ready recommendation. The premise is pretty one-note on paper: Warrior princess got captured by demons, they try to coax intel out of her via temptation, she folds, the intel is worthless, and the cycle begins anew. But if a run of over 250 manga chapters and climbing is any indication, the series manages to keep it fresh. Time for “Torture” works because it isn’t beholden to its premise and instead decides to play hopscotch with its own framework. Gradually but noticeably, the unnamed princess and her inquisitors and “torturers” become friends, they all enjoy the spoils of her snitching together, and they really just keep it up because that’s how this stuff is supposed to go. 

Nine months later, I still don’t know why I liked this show so much. It’s just the right amount of silly to me, and it’s cute as hell where it counts. Not the best thing I watched this year but far from the worst. If you want something dumb and weirdly wholesome that’ll make you chuckle here and there, it’s a good pick.

25. Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night

This is one I’m still agonizing over a bit. Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night is a terrific show on so many levels, but I still felt let down by the end of its run. It wasn’t even in the same ballpark of disappointment as Uzumaki or Metallic Rouge, thankfully. Like Uzumaki, it couldn’t live up to the promise of its all-timer debut episode, but on the flip side, Jellyfish largely maintained its high production value. Like Metallic Rouge, it felt like the narrative largely spun its wheels until the writers realized they only had two episodes left, but Jellyfish didn’t leave me feeling like I’d just wasted four hours of my life.

This series already had massive shoes to fill if it was going to be the best showbiz anime produced by Doga Kobo airing this year (“I’d have two nickels” and so on and so forth), but Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night unfortunately ended up getting outclassed on several fronts by shows that just did almost every element better. It looks terrific, it has a memorable cast, the music’s great, and it’s a welcome entry in the “Girls Doing Things” anime canon, but it was outclassed in its own broadcast season by Train to the End of the World, Girls Band Cry, and Yuru Camp. The real shame is that it seemed to have designs on being a tremendous LGBT show if it played its cards right, and instead opted to throw those cards in the air and walk away by the end.

I’d still recommend this show if you temper your expectations of any real narrative punch. There were some tremendous original series that aired this year, but Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night just didn’t reach those higher levels. There’s a whole bunch of good in there, but they couldn’t quite piece it all together.

24. Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation, season 2, part 2

I’m gonna be real here: I’m sick of writing about this show. It’s exceptionally well-made and, on balance, easily one of the best anime of the decade so far, but the subject matter can touch such controversial and uncomfortable territory at parts that I can’t recommend it to anyone. 

The back half of Mushoku Tensei’s second season actually did a lot of work towards making up for a lot of the less-tolerable moments in the preceding ¾ of the show, even delivering a couple of the spring season’s best episodes, and then it gets weird again near the end. Not nearly as bad as it gets in the first season, nor in the worst moments of this season’s first half from 2023, but still off-putting, even for people who stuck with it for this long. I expect this to continue.

Mushoku Tensei is a great show. Don’t watch Mushoku Tensei.

23. Undead Unluck, second cour

David Production’s adaptation of one of Weekly Shonen Jump’s most inventive and ambitious action series continued into the start of 2024 as the story just continued ramping up and getting wilder.

Undead Unluck had an interesting, if occasionally uncomfortable start, with a fascinating power system and tons of secrets left to be revealed, and as it continued you could start to see the camera slowly pulling back. Midway through its second cour, shit completely hits the fan and any expectations you may have had fly out the window. Undead Unluck’s debut season was an amusing curiosity for most of its run, but the status quo is upended so effectively midway through the second cour that I was completely hooked. There were some infuriating pacing issues at those exact moments that were enough for me to dock it several spots on this list, but it’s still absolutely worth watching.

I decided to read the Undead Unluck manga a couple months ago and for as wildly as I thought the anime ramped up its scope by the end of this run, it turns out that the series as a whole goes to even crazier lengths than that. I’m completely sold now and cannot wait for more.

22. Kaiju No. 8

Counter to the series I just talked about, Kaiju No. 8 is one of Shueisha’s least​​​​ innovative battle shonen series. And that’s okay! Nothing wrong with wanting to see people fight giant monsters and one who can turn into a giant monster himself, and maybe you don’t want to have to deal with Attack on Titan’s incoherent politics to get there.

There is fundamentally nothing special about Kaiju No. 8, but I do appreciate that the protagonist is an out-of-shape thirtysomething desperately clinging to his hopes and dreams. No particular reason. There’s some interesting worldbuilding early in the story, and although it does lend itself to protag Kafka’s strengths in battle (non-”turning into a monster” category), it all falls to the wayside when it’s time for monsters, guns, and explosions. And I’m fine with that stuff, but I was hoping for a bit more of a hook.

All in all, this is a very well-made show, if a little muddy-looking at times. I wouldn’t have chosen YUNGBLUD and OneRepublic for the opening and closing themes, but it didn’t hamper my enjoyment of the show. I just like complaining about that stuff. Looks good, sounds good most of the time, and endearingly dumb. Can’t go wrong with that.

21. Mashle: Magic and Muscles, season 2

I ranked this show’s first season pretty low on my 2023 list, but I was willing to stick it out for another season, and I’m glad I did. Mashle really finds its footing during the Divine Visionary exam arc and irons out a lot of the issues I’d had with the first season, primarily how little the comedy initially landed for me.

A series that initially had my eyes either rolling or glazing over quickly recovered my attention early in the second season. Creepy Nuts OPs are a cheat code, I swear. Even putting the killer music aside, Mashle looks a lot better as well and has a much more engaging story in its second season. You can really feel it gaining its footing and finding a bit of swagger as the season goes on. The fight sequences are much more engaging this time out, and sometimes you get all the satisfaction you need out of seeing an emotionless weirdo punch the shit out of a mean nerd. A bunch of the jokes even land this time around!

I’m glad I stuck this out. Mashle is, at the end of the day, a hilariously blatant Harry Potter send-up, and frankly has no good reason to hit like it does, but I’m finally sold. At the rate it’s been going, Mashle seems to be set to adapt the entire manga, and I’m looking forward to seeing all of it.